


A Letter From Ostwick

by hinotoriii



Series: Oscar Trevelyan [9]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 17:45:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3258713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hinotoriii/pseuds/hinotoriii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Oscar glares down at his own desk from where he stands, hands gripping so tensely into the wooden surface that his knuckles begin to turn white under the strain. His brow is knitted tightly into an annoyed frown, staring fiercely at the message he had just read.</i>
</p><p>Mages were usually looked upon badly within Thedas, or at least they were when Oscar was growing up and learning more about who he was. They were misunderstood, seen to be a danger to those without any magical ability. Sometimes, that stigma attached itself as far as the noble families, so much so that they would rather dismiss something new and unfamiliar to them rather than embrace it. Even when that something was their own child.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Letter From Ostwick

_“Maker’s breath.”_

Oscar glares down at his own desk from where he stands, hands gripping so tensely into the wooden surface that his knuckles begin to turn white under the strain. His brow is knitted tightly into an annoyed frown, staring fiercely at the message he had just read.

He momentarily forgets he isn’t alone in the room, that lying upon his couch engrossed in a book is Dorian. Instead his mind swims with the words written upon the parchment before him, thinking they must be part of some sort of hilarious ongoing joke he happened to be the reluctant punchline of. Oscar only had to read the first few lines and scan down the page to read the senders name to know his previous assumptions were correct, and after letting out a heavy sigh he begins to screw the parchment up into a ball.

“Something wrong?”

Oscar looks up at the question, irritation disappearing for a second as his eyes grow wide remembering Dorian’s presence with him. He shakes his head at the look of concern Dorian shares his way, screwing up the parchment more fiercely as he turns away.

“It’s nothing,” says Oscar, attempting to dismiss the bubbling fury that’s begun to make itself known in the pit of his stomach. He starts to walk, automatically heading towards the logs burning in his fireplace so he can dispose of the letter and watch as it turns to ash.

“Are you sure?” Oscar hears Dorian ask again. There’s a sound of shuffling which leads to Oscar assuming Dorian’s moved and put his book to one side for the time being. “Because I can’t recall ever seeing you look so offended at a piece of parchment before now. Not even whilst you were responding to those ridiculous requests from the Orlesian nobles the other day.”

It’s an attempt at sparking some humour out of him, Oscar knows; and had it been any other sender or any other time he probably would respond with a smile – if only a slight one. Yet he doesn’t; if anything his frown only seems to darken as he lets go of the paper to throw it into the flames, crossing his arms over his chest and gripping them almost defensively.

 _“Amatus?”_ asks Dorian. Oscar picks up on the small sounds that fill the air – the muffled footsteps against the rugs spread upon the floor; the ever so light, jingling of the metals and jewels upon Dorian’s clothing as he approaches him – yet it is the careful and delicate feel of warm, familiar hands touching his own tense shoulders that brings Oscar out of his thoughts and back into the moment. “Oscar? Whatever is it that’s gotten you so troubled?”

Both the comforting touch and the hints of worry lacing their way within Dorian’s voice manage to settle Oscar somewhat, his posture slumping slightly as he lets out another long sigh. He turns his head to look at Dorian, giving him a sympathetically small but sorry smile at the concern he sees reflecting back at him from his lover’s eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Oscar finally says, moving away from Dorian’s touch for a second so he could instead turn to face him fully. “I don't mean to worry you. I’m fine, it’s just … problems involving my family.”

“Ah,” Dorian replies, nodding his head once in understanding. “I understand. If it’s worth anything, I do happen to be rather educated on those such matters myself, should you need to talk about things…”

The words are more of a request then they are a question. Oscar uncrosses his arms and lets them fall to his sides, suddenly finding a spot upon one of the rugs very interesting to stare at as he fought the mixture of conflicting thoughts currently rushing through his mind. Dorian waits patiently for an answer whatever it be, and it’s that joint with the care Oscar already knows is between the two of them that finally sparks him into opening up about what’s bothering him.

“It’s about my parents. They keep contacting me. Sending me letters,” He pauses, reaching up to rub his hand at a tension beginning to build-up near his temple. “They have been for some time now, and I’d much rather wish they wouldn’t. Or that they'd stop.” 

“I see. Is it unusual for them to contact you so often then?” Dorian asks.

Oscar senses enough from his words to know that Dorian’s treading carefully within the subject. And with good reason. Oscar knows he can be an incredibly private person when it comes down to matters entailing his own personal and private life, and apart from the fact that he isn’t on the best of terms with his parents; little is known about his family or his past before what had happened back at the Conclave. He has only ever discussed such subjects in passing, never really revealing exactly how deep any damage runs between him and his parents. Still, he lets out a sad huff of a laugh in response to the question, his hand fall away from his forehead down to his side again.

“They haven’t so much as tried since the day they decided to send me off to the Circle. Out of sight, out of mind, as the saying so often goes.”

As Oscar turns to him again there’s a defeated shadow within his eyes which is enough to tear at Dorian’s heart. He knows what kinds of emotions are likely flowing through Oscar right now -- has felt them as violently as waves hit viciously against the rocks at sea -- but has never thought for a second that they might be feelings the _both_ of them carry within them. There was once a time where Dorian had wished such feelings would be ones Oscar would never have to make an acquaintance with, yet he already appears to know them far too well.

“Forgive me, I had no idea. You’ve never really spoken much about your past, and as much as I enjoy discovering more about the mystery that makes you so wonderfully you, I’ve always somewhat had a feeling it was a subject best not forced to press you about.”

Oscar shares a small smile Dorian’s way, shaking his head quickly afterwards.

 _"You_ could have asked about it. You should know by now that I would gladly tell you anything you wish to know. It’s just not particularly my favourite story to share so I often don’t, that’s all.”

Oscar reaches for Dorian’s hand, and in return Dorian takes it immediately, letting his thumb rub soothingly over Oscar’s knuckles as he steps closer to him. 

“It’s still your story all the same. Whether you choose to share it with me or not, that's entirely up to you.”

Silence falls between them for a long moment as Oscar remains thoughtful, the longer it drawing on the more Dorian begins to believe Oscar will choose not to elaborate on how his family relates to his current irritation. After some time though, Oscar breathes in deeply and begins to speak.

“I am the youngest in my family, Dorian. Apart from myself, I also have two older siblings: one brother and one sister. They both moved forward into the traditional Trevelyan footsteps; with my brother going into Templar training as soon as he was able despite the fact he is the main heir to our family name, and my sister moving forward to aid within Ostwick’s Chantry. Both my Mother and my Father were proud of them, finding their choices acceptable and worthy of the lives they wanted for them. They waited for the day in which they could add their youngest son to that same pile of accomplishments they could boast about to other nobles, but had the nasty shock to one day discover he just so happened to be a mage.”

Oscar pauses, focusing his attention away from Dorian to instead stare into the burning embers of the fire. His throat begins to feel slightly tight, and Oscar finds himself attempting to swallow down whatever emotion it is that feels ready to choke him.

“They didn’t know or understand how to act around me after that, nor did they even attempt to try. As soon it was known that I had magical abilities, it was as if I were no longer their son but instead this stranger living unwelcomed under their roof. They feared for their name more than anything else; constantly worrying what would happen if word got out that the great Trevelyan’s had a mage for a child.”

“That’s horrific,” Dorian gasps, his voice quieter than before. It’s difficult for him to comprehend coming from a place that prides it’s power on the use such abilities, Oscar knows that: yet Dorian can still understand on a level better than anyone else can. “I’m assuming word did get out in the end though, yes? If it hadn’t before I’m sure it has now, what with who you are and what you mean to so many right now.”

Another sad chuckle escapes Oscar’s lips, yet he nods.

“It wasn’t a secret that they could have kept for long, no matter how they tried. _I_ being as young and naïve as I was at the time rather stupidly believed that once word did get out about what I was everything would return to normal, but of course it never did. They ended up sending me to the Circle not for my benefit like they wanted those outside our family to believe, but as a means of getting rid of what they saw was a rather big problem towards their reputation. My parents knew that sending me there meant I would be stripped of any chance of inheriting anything within our family, that everything that defined the rest of them in the nobility would be gone for me. Letting me live my life as the mage I am meant that I would only ever be able to carry the Trevelyan name. I could no longer belong in their world.”

Oscar takes a small step back. It was difficult for him to even glance at Dorian as he spoke of his pain and frustration, being so used to keeping it all locked away within himself. He knew however that the strength which had him continuing to explain his situation was from remembering how Dorian had confided in him before, how he had needed him as a support back when they had encountered and dealt with his father together. That trust that had grown and was shared between the two of them. 

“Here in the South, once you join the Circle as a mage you’re expected to serve it for the rest of your life. To begin with I was angry at my parents leaving me there, so much so that I refused to go home whenever they allowed apprentices the leave. But over time I began to grow to rather like my time at the Circle, enough that I could bear the thought of it being my life. Yet I still never went back to my family. In turn, they chose never to contact me.

“But then I suddenly became the very important _Herald of Andraste,_ and after that _Lord Inquisitor of the mighty Inquisition_ , and of course those are both titles fitting enough in their view of a hierarchy that my parents have decided I’m an acceptable child once more.”

The words are spoken bitterly towards the end, and with so much withheld anger. The very situation was enough to leave Oscar fuming as he let his thoughts simmer, and from the way Dorian’s body seems to have tensed beside him, Oscar assumes that he’s just as offended by the situation Oscar’s been put in.

He quickly glances in Dorian’s direction, before letting out a tired sigh. Oscar finally turns away from the fire completely, moving towards his lover and sinking into Dorian’s arms, relaxing a bit when he feels the way Dorian goes to wrap them around him tightly.

“You told me before that you were concerned people would assume you’re using me for who I am. For the connections I have and the power I now hold,” Oscar mumbles against Dorian. His hand grips tightly against the fabric of Dorian’s clothes, and he breathes out another heavy sigh as he clenches his eyes shut tightly. “The truth is I knew even then that there are people out there who want to do exactly that. My parents _are_ those kinds of people.”

Dorian’s fingers thread through the hair at the back of Oscar’s neck, the touch an attempt to sooth and bring some edge of comfort to the other. His hold around Oscar is almost protective, as if by simply holding him close Dorian could keep him safe from the darker sides of the world – that they could protect each other from them. He aches knowing that Oscar has been treated no better by his parents than Dorian has his own; and despite the differences in their situations, Dorian understands enough to know that the betrayal of the love Oscar held for them – that he probably still holds deep down, being the overly caring man that he really is – is what hurts him the most.

“What is it that they ask of you in these letters they send?” Dorian asks after some time passes. He speaks quietly, his fingers caressing against Oscar’s neck soothingly, and Oscar breathes out heavily against Dorian’s shoulder.

“It’s always the same sort of thing,” He replies, pulling away slightly and casting his eyes up towards Dorian, who stares back at him both with that concern of his again. Oscar’s expression changes, his voice lifting somewhat as he attempts to mimic his own mothers tone. “ _‘Please do feel welcome to attend our up and coming ball, Oscar. It would be an honour seeing you attend,’_ or _‘Lord whatever-his-name-is who you haven’t seen since we decided to hide you in shame is planning the annual Ostwick cheese fair again this year. I’m sure he would appreciate a visit from the Holy Herald himself, wouldn’t you agree?’_ Because it’s not as if we’re busy trying to save the world and help those in dire need of aid across all of Thedas or anything.”

“Of course not,” says Dorian, a hint of his usual sarcastic wit laced in the words. “Nobles worrying about anything that’s not to do with either them or whatever lavish new event they wish to show off at? Perish the thought! That’s almost as if saying they’re merely human like everyone else around them they so often like to stand upon. Metaphorically speaking, of course.”

The corner of Oscar’s lips tilt upwards in the ghostly hints of a smile briefly, and Dorian feels his heart stutter for a second at the sight. Oscar presses his forehead against Dorian’s shoulder again, and from beneath his fingertips Dorian swears he feels Oscar’s shoulders shake lightly with suppressed, soundless laughter.

“I should just ignore the letters, I know. But if I don’t, one day they might write and actually need my help. If a rift were to open up near them that I’d have to close and I ignored it, I hate to think of what the consequences would be. Of everything that would possibly mean to my -- ..."

Oscar lets his words cut off and drift away, instead breathing out another heavy sigh. He can't even bring himself to think of what could happen if he were to neglect such a thing simply by his own distrust of his parents. Dorian’s arms around him squeeze a little tighter in understanding, and Oscar feels the soft press of lips against his hair from the kiss that Dorian leaves there before resting his cheek there.

“I think we both know that problems don’t get solved easily simply be ignoring they’re there, _amatus_. If they did, why, things would be so much easier for us all. If that were the case we could even try ignoring Corypheus just to see if he’d vanish somehow. Imagine how useful a trick that would be.

“You’re currently the most famous man within Thedas -- further than Thedas, even. It is of no surprise to me that would cause you to catch the tailwind of some rather … unwanted attention,” Dorian pauses, brow creasing as he tries to find the right words to help. He has never been great at these sorts of things; never really had the opportunity before Oscar to care enough for someone to want to help them in such a careful way. But he wants to learn. He wants to be the comfort Oscar needs at times like this, and so Oscar waits patiently for him to find the words he searches for. “Perhaps there is something your advisors could do? Josephine has a way of politely declining invitations in such a manner that usually works to your advantage. Failing that, I’m sure Leliana would have something up her sleeve; crafty and intelligent woman that she is.”

“I fear what Leliana’s methods would involve, honestly,” says Oscar. “However … I have made it known to Josephine before that I don’t get along with my family…”

“There you are, then,” Dorian replies. “Even if these messages are sent directly to you, see if perhaps you can have her decline on your behalf. Perhaps just the fact that the letter would not be written nor sent by you personally will give them enough of a hint to know you’re not willing to be contactable for them. If that doesn’t work, then try something else.”

Oscar lifts his head, giving Dorian a stunned look. He frowns, forehead creasing in thought.

“Why did I not think of that before?” He asks, causing Dorian to smile at him fondly.

“Because as is usual of you in that uniquely charming way of yours, you believe that anything personal to you _must_ be dealt by you only. You have friends and allies here for the purpose of aiding you, Oscar. That are _happy_ to help you even on matters not relating to the Inquisition’s work. You were the one to remind me of that truth before, and now I believe is a good time to remind you of it.”

For a moment Oscar simply stares at Dorian, the creases in his brow growing a little more relaxed. It is his turn to try and search for the correct words to say in return, mouth moving around the shapes of them yet finding none that completely expresses what it is he wants. He gives in to the fact that they fail him, instead settling with leaning forward and pressing his lips firmly against Dorian’s. Oscar kisses him, slowly but surely, his feelings translating and blending themselves into the action for him, louder than they would if they were ever spoken aloud.

“I don’t know if it will work,” Oscar says, breaking the kiss and leaning his forehead against Dorian’s affectionately. “My parents can be rather stubborn when they find a need to be, and nothing is a greater need for them then to appear on good terms with influential figureheads. But it’s worth a shot at least. Even if it keeps them quiet just long enough until the world isn’t on the verge of a possible ending, it’ll be something. I’ll speak to Josephine when she’s next available. Unless she’s available now....”

“No.” Dorian interrupts, holding Oscar’s arm as he begins to break away, intending to visit Josephine’s office. “Not now. Look for her later.”

Oscar turns to him somewhat confused, looking down when he feels the careful way Dorian’s hand moves from his arm to reach for his hand. He tugs on it lightly as they move, and Oscar quickly understands that Dorian is guiding him over to the couch which he had been reading from before.

“You’ve been sitting at that desk of yours for the better half of the afternoon, and this letter has managed to shake you up. I think the world will still be standing even if you spare an hour for yourself to relax. Josephine will be around later for you to speak to her.”

Dorian sits, pulling on Oscar’s hand in a signal to get him to sit beside him. He follows, resting his head against Dorian’s shoulder and lets his eyes fall closed, attempting to let go of the frustrated emotions he still carries within him from the now burnt letter.

“You could at least read to me if I’m not going anywhere for the time being,” Oscar says around a sigh. “It would be a very welcome distraction to help me to relax. That and I know you were reading a poetry book before I interrupted you earlier.”

“Caught on to that did you?” Dorian asks, smiling fondly when he feels Oscar nod against his shoulder.

“I pick up on the small things,” He replies. “But really, could you read me something? I’d quite like to forget about my parents now after speaking so much about them. I think I’ve rather exhausted that topic; at least for today.”

“For you? Of course.”

As Dorian reaches to retrieve his book Oscar attempts to make himself more comfortable against his arm -- or as comfortable as he can with the amount of jewels Dorian has dotted all over his clothes. As Dorian is flicking through the pages to find something to read to him Oscar allows his mind to wander slightly, thinking of how even though both of their families may not be content nor happy with the people he and Dorian ended up becoming, nor were they willing to understand who they were as those people, at least they had each other to lean on when the days got particularly difficult. Oscar is more than thankful for that gift, knowing that he wouldn’t trade what he has with Dorian for anything.


End file.
